A Little Florida Lady | Page 8

you're nice, you may call me Beth."
"All right. How are you going to prove you're no 'fraid-cat, Eli--Beth?"
She pondered a moment. "'Fraid-cats cry when they're hurt, don't they?"

"Of course. So do girls."
"I don't cry when I'm hurt," and she looked triumphant as if that settled
the matter. "Once when I was a little bit of a girl----"
"You're pretty small now."
"I'm a big girl, and you shouldn't interrupt. Well, once Marian----"
"Who's she?"
"She's my sister. Well, I wanted to light the gas, but Marian said I was
too small, but I'd not listen. I jumped up on a rocker to light the gas.
The chair rocked and, I fell against the windowsill. Marian screamed,
'Beth's killed. She's covered with blood!'"
"Were you really?"
"Yes." Beth felt she was arguing her case well. "Mamma thought I just
had the nose bleed, but what do you s'pose? I had two mouths."
The boy's eyes grew big. "Two mouths--how jolly. How did it
happen?"
"The window-sill had cut me right across here," she pointed to the
space just below her nose. "The doctor took five stitches, and when it
healed, took them out again. It hurt very much, but I didn't cry a bit."
"Didn't it leave a scar on your face?"
She threw back her head.
"There, do you see that little white line under my nose? You can hardly
see it now."
The boy examined the spot critically. Then he changed the subject.
"Where did you live before you came here?"
"New York."

"Did you like it there?"
"No, it was horrid. I hated to be dressed up and sent for a walk."
He looked incredulous. "Most girls like to be dressed up."
"I don't."
"Don't you like to be told you are a pretty little girl with nice clothes?"
"No, I don't."
He sniffed disdainfully. "Oh, go long. I don't believe that."
Beth grew very much in earnest, and thought of another little
illustration.
"Truth 'pon honor. One day a strange lady in a store put her hand on my
head, and said: 'What a pretty little girl.' It made me mad, so that I just
grunted and made up a face at her. My mamma said, 'Why, Beth, that is
very naughty.' I said, 'Well, mamma, what business is it of hers whether
I am pretty or not? It isn't my fault if I am pretty and people shouldn't
bother me.'"
The boy laughed. "I believe I rather like you, Beth, but I only have your
word for it that you are not like other girls. I have a big mind to try you.
Shall I?"
She was a little afraid to consent, but she was ashamed to show it. So
she delayed matters by asking "How?"
The boy drew down his face until it was very long, and when he spoke
it was in an awe-inspiring whisper.
"Swear never to tell what I tell you. Repeat after me, 'Harvey
Baker----'"
"Is that your name?"

"Yes--don't interrupt me. 'Harvey Baker, if I tell what you show me, I
hope I may be forever doomed and tortured.'"
Beth looked shocked. "I won't say that."
"'Fraid-cat. 'Fraid-cat."
Again she stamped her foot. "I won't be called that. It's not true. I will
promise not to tell. Can't you believe me?"
The boy considered. "Girls are hardly ever to be trusted, but I'll try you.
In this river there is a great, big, black animal that hates fraid-cats as
much as I do. He eats them up. Why, he has such fierce jaws and sharp
teeth that he could gobble up a little girl like you in one mouthful."
Beth felt that her hair must be standing up on end. She would have run
away, had not pride detained her--and then the recital rather fascinated
her. Harvey continued, relishing the effect of his story:
"Now I have only to whistle to have the awful animal appear. His head
will slowly rise above the water. His jaws will open. His teeth will
gleam. If any little girl cries, he will snap at her, and it will be good-bye
girl. Now, if you are not a fraid-cat you'll say, 'Harvey Baker, whistle.'"
She wanted to run more than ever, but instead she repeated slowly:
"Harvey Baker, whistle."
The boy pursed up his lips, but he then made an impressive pause, and
finally pointed his finger at Beth.
"Elizabeth Davenport, remember. If you give the least little bit of a cry,
you die. But, if you keep perfectly still, and never tell what you see, I
am your friend for life." Thereupon he whistled very shrilly.
Beth's eyes were glued upon the water. Every little ripple seemed to her
excited imagination an awful head rising to gobble her up. However,
nothing appeared.